


Songs of Home and Hope

by LeChatRouge673



Series: Canon Verse Stories and Wanderings [6]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-03 09:10:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15815865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeChatRouge673/pseuds/LeChatRouge673
Summary: A series of first meetings, quiet moments, and letters that explore Theadosia's first few months with the Inquisition, before she is reunited with her husband.





	1. Solas

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”

-Oscar Wilde

 

* * *

 

 

_This is not what was supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. He had planned for so long, tried to account for every contingency, and everything had still fallen apart. How could he have known? He should have known; should have taken more time to gather information, to plan. Perhaps things would have turned out differently. Or perhaps not. It did not matter now._

_What mattered now was accounting for this disaster. What mattered was keeping this woman, the poor soul who had the immense misfortune of being in the wrong place in the wrong time, alive. Theoretically the mark on her hand, the mark left by_ his _artifact, may be able to close the rifts that had begun clawing apart the veil and pouring demons into this world. This was not how it was supposed to happen, and now he had to try to undo the damage so that he could return to his original plan._

_He had to keep her alive. That was the first step. The mark may yet kill her, even with his aid, but he would do his best. If nothing else, the long hours she spent unconscious gave him an opportunity to study the mark. There was also a concentration of magic surrounding her locket. He had been surprised it had survived the blast until he’d felt the magical energies imbued within it. Whoever this woman was, she had gone to great lengths to make sure that necklace was protected. Solas sighed._

_He wished things had gone differently._

 

* * *

 

 

For the most part, he was left alone to work. Most of the other mages within the confines of the fledgling Inquisition were wary of him, unfamiliar with his affinity for the fade and his easy companionship with the spirits that resided there. Everyone else treated him with a sort of detached respect, no more inclined to engage in idle conversation than he was. Lady Trevelyan was the exception. Possibly because he made more of an effort to respond with the same measured respect and courtesy she extended to him. It seemed the least he could do.

Her questions were thoughtful and showed a wisdom he had not expected to find. More importantly, she listened, absorbing what he told her and processing it at a rapid pace before either asking more questions or verbalizing her own thoughts. Thea was highly intelligent, and their debates and conversations on their long treks through the hinterlands were an acceptable way to fill the time he would have otherwise resented for the fact that it kept him from dreaming. Solas still remembered the first time he had explained his dreaming to Thea, and she had asked about the battlefields.

“I dreamt at Ostagar,” he told her, and he saw a flicker of something pass over her eyes. He told her of the different perspectives he’d seen; the heroism of Cataline Cousland and Loghain Mac Tir’s retreat. She grew quiet as he spoke, and it was a long moment before she asked her next question.

“So which perspective was real?”

Solas smiled. “It is the fade. They are all real.”

To his mild surprise, Thea returned the gesture, and somehow Solas felt as if he had just passed some sort of test. “Thank you. I appreciate your patience with my curiosity. I have never met anyone who shares your unique skill set, and the knowledge you have shared is invaluable.”

“Of course, Lady Trevelyan,” he replied. “I appreciate that you care enough to ask.”

He wished he could have hated her.

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Catkin,_

_I am alive. I do not know how, or why, but I am still alive. Every other person who attended the Conclave is dead. Why? Why was I spared? My hand has been marked by the fade, and they think I’ve been touched by Andraste, but I just want to go home. I miss my husband, and my library, and my favorite tree by the lake. I’m so tired, and alone, and everyone is looking at me like I have the answers._

_I have no answers, Cat, only a million questions. I am holding it together, as best I can anyways. I think Uncle Bryce and Aunt Eleanor would be proud. I’ve been thinking about them recently. Really, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened ten years ago. How were you so strong? How did you hold everything together while your life was falling apart around you? Selfish as it may be, I still have not forgiven myself for not having been there for you._

_I just want to go home. I didn’t want any of this. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be a part of this, and I don’t want to be their damned herald of Andraste. I want my life back. I don’t know where Loghain is. He has not replied to any of the letters I have sent so far. Fuck, I don’t know where you and Nate are either, for that matter. It just doesn’t seem fair. We were happy, for a while. We had a quiet life, but we had each other, and we had you and Nate. It was enough. I was content. Why has it all fallen apart?_

_Maybe it would be better if I did not send this letter. Reading back over it… I am not at my best right now, am I? I have no right to burden you with this. You have your own battles to fight. I will make it through this. I have to. I will survive, because I know I have people waiting for me on the other side of whatever mess I’ve found myself in._

_My love to you and Nathaniel,_

_Thea_

_(A letter written to Warden-Commander Cataline Howe from Lady Theadosia Mac Tir. It was never sent)._

 


	2. Cullen

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”

-J.R.R. Tolkien

 

* * *

 

_He listened with only thinly veiled skepticism as Cassandra explained that it was in fact the prisoner who had closed the rift in the sky, stemming the deluge of demons that had been pouring forth._

_“I hope they’re right about you.” Cullen looked at the disheveled and bloodied woman they’d dragged from the ruinous aftermath of the Conclave explosion. They still had no idea who she was, or if she was responsible for what had happened, or really anything about her. She seemed to handle her weapons well enough in any case. “We lost a lot of people getting you here.”_

_The prisoner gave a short bark of bitter laughter. “Yes, and I have no doubt you intend to hold me personally responsible for each one of them. I know how this goes. Let’s see if I live through this next bit, and then you can lecture me, yes?” She turned to follow Solas and Varric towards the smoldering remains of the temple. Then, she paused and looked back at him. “And, for the record,” she lifted her chin and met his gaze with no trace of apology or guilt._

_“I hope they’re right too.”_

* * *

 

 

So much for a good first impression.

The prisoner, who they now knew was Lady Theadosia Trevelyan, had actually closed the rift. The name, at least, was familiar: the Ostwick branch of the Trevelyan family was very old, very wealthy, and very well-connected. If Cullen remembered correctly, Ravenna Hawke had once mentioned being somehow related to the Trevelyans on her mother’s side.

Now, having recovered, Lady Trevelyan stood across from him at the War Table and studied the map intently. She was a striking woman; beautiful even, now that her wounds had been tended to and she had retrieved a fresh change of clothes. More importantly, she had agreed to help their fledgling organization and had already been thrown headlong into the deep end thanks to Cassandra, who was now making formal introductions.

“You met Commander Cullen, of course-”

“It was only for a moment, on the battlefield,” he interjected, hopeful that his previous suspicions would be forgiven. “I am pleased you survived.”

Lady Trevelyan raised a single eyebrow, her lips curving into a sardonic half smile that told him she had not forgotten their first meeting, nor was she terribly likely to just let it pass. “Yes, Commander. I am certain you are simply overjoyed.”

Before he could reply, Cassandra quickly moved to Josephine, and then Leliana. Cullen would bet coin Leliana and Lady Trevelyan knew each other, though neither one of them seemed inclined to elaborate on their association. Instead, they turned their attention to business. A letter had arrived from Highever, from Teyrn Fergus Cousland, inviting the Inquisition to send a representative to the memorial service they would be holding for Divine Justinia.

“We have many Fereldan soldiers,” Cullen pointed out. “We could send an honor guard to Highever.”

To his immense surprise, Lady Trevelyan nodded. “An excellent idea.”

“I will reply to the Teyrn’s letter this afternoon,” Josephine added, but Lady Trevelyan shook her head.

“No, Lady Montilyet, I- our families know each other,” she explained. “I will write to him. It is… it is perhaps past time I did.” For the first time since he had met her, Cullen could swear there was a flicker of something sad behind her storm blue eyes. “If there is nothing else?”

The others shook their heads, and Lady Trevelyan left the room. The rest of them stood there in silence for a moment before Cullen finally asked the question he had wanted to since day one. “Can she be trusted?”

“I believe her,” Cassandra replied, a stubborn set to her jaw. “She did not have to stay, and she clearly has somewhere else she would rather be, but she chose to remain and help. That counts for something.”

“I would trust Thea with my life, Commander.” Leliana’s voice was soft but held an edge that suggested he would do well to listen.

“In fact, I already have.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Fergus,_

_I apologize for not writing sooner. Things have been, in a word, chaotic. I survived the disaster at the Conclave; apparently, I am the only one who did, and my continued existence despite the death of so many others has caused the people here to label me the ‘herald of Andraste.’ Which, as I’m sure you can surmise, just thrills me to no end. I know I ought to simply be glad I am still alive, but I am finding it difficult when it has resulted in my being trapped in a situation I would have deeply liked to avoid._

_You have obviously been told about the rebirth of the Inquisition (we received your letter, and will be sending an honor guard to Highever for the service). As the reluctant herald, I have been pulled in to the inner circle of this mess, and I admit I feel a certain responsibility to help. Something happened in the fade, cousin. My hand was marked, and I alone seem to have the ability to close the rifts that have been opening across Thedas._

_It is the worst._

_I have already sent word in the last direction I heard from Cat and Nate, but if you happen to hear from them, would you kindly inform them as to what has happened? I do not expect them to abandon their current quest, but I also know I can expect an earful if I try to keep this from them. I am also trying to track down my husband, and the fact I have not heard from him since he began his investigation has me more worried than I like to admit._

_Leliana is here, so the Maker has at least shown me that small mercy, and she will of course do everything in her power to help me navigate this situation and to track down Loghain. Also, Ven’s friend Varric, the storyteller, somehow ended up in Haven. He does not seem to recognize me, and I’m not inclined to clue more people in to my full identity than strictly necessary, but his presence is welcome. It is nice to have that connection, tenuous though it may be._

_Take care of yourself, Fergus. I will write again soon._

_Love,_

_Thea_

 


	3. Josephine

“Tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution.”

-Kahlil Gibran

* * *

 

 

_Josephine Montilyet prided herself on having a nearly impeccable knowledge of the major noble houses in Thedas. When she learned their prisoner was a member of the Trevelyan family, she was eager to speak with her. After all, the Trevelyans were one of the few families still trading with the Montilyets: not even a decades-old Orlesian smear campaign could muster the strength to challenge the Seawolf and Steed shipping empire._

_Yet when faced with Theadosia, Josephine was at a loss. For all that Leliana was willing to vouch for the other woman’s identity, Josephine had absolutely no recollection of having ever met her. Thea did seem to bear a familial resemblance to the family representative Josephine usually worked with, Margot. In any case, the woman that continued to bristle at being referred to as the herald of Andraste had not been terribly forthcoming about her personal life._

_So Josephine had started digging, only to hit a wall. As it turned out, Thea was in fact Bann Margot Trevelyan’s younger sister, and a partner in the family business, and yet there was little to no record of her from about the age of seven onwards. Whatever work she did, it seemed to be mostly behind the scenes. There were no mentions of a spouse or children or even other relatives._

_It was as if Theadosia Trevelyan was simply a ghost._

* * *

 

 

“Lady Trevelyan, if I might have a word?”

Josephine could see the exhaustion behind the herald’s eyes, but the other woman offered a half smile as she entered the small storage room the ambassador had commandeered for an office. Whatever else was unknown about her, the herald had obviously been raised with the kind of manners expected of nobility. “Of course, Lady Montilyet. What can I do for you?”

“Oh, please, just call me Josephine!” she insisted, gesturing to the seat in front of her desk.

“Then please call me Thea,” the herald replied. “I admit I am chafing a bit at the title. I am unused to being the center of attention.”

Josephine nodded, then carefully continued. “Yes, I believe I usually work with your sister, Margot, during trade negotiations.”

If Thea was thrown off by Josephine’s offhand mention of her sister, she did not show it. “Most likely,” she agreed. “I travel a great deal, and so much of my work for Seawolf and Steed is done abroad. Margot and I have always managed our portion of the family business that way.”

“It is actually your family I was meaning to speak to you about.” Josephine took the opening, hoping to draw out more information. “Do you think they would be willing to support the Inquisition if they were approached? The support of a family such as yours would go a long way towards building our legitimacy.”

Thea nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I imagine Margot would be amenable. Adaline and Tiberius were incredibly devout, so I can just imagine them rolling over in their graves at the thought of their prodigal second child somehow being labeled the herald of Andraste.” A slightly wolfish grin spread over her face. “In any case, I will reach out to Margot and tell her you will be sending a more formal introduction. I’ve already written to my cousin Fergus, but you might approach him as well.”

Josephine’s eyes widened in surprise. _Now_ that _I did not know_. “Teyrn Cousland is your cousin?”

Thea’s answering laugh told Josephine she had not been as subtle as she’d hoped. “I know you have been looking into my background, Josephine, and I do not fault you for it. I am a particularly volatile unknown in a wide field of unknowns. While I value my privacy greatly, I see no harm in you knowing that I am related to the Couslands. Eleanor and Adaline were sisters. Bryce and Eleanor…” Thea’s voice faltered, and Josephine could see a shadow of grief pass behind the woman’s storm blue eyes. “Bryce and Eleanor raised me. I considered them my parents and they considered me another daughter.” She fell silent then, and Josephine knew that, even a decade later the pain of the Couslands’ murders was raw for the woman sitting across from her.

“Thank you, Thea,” Josephine replied gently. She had pressed enough for today. “I will send letters out to both Margot and Fergus today.”

Thea gave a brief nod, then stood and left the room.

 _She is no ghost_ , Josephine sighed to herself. _She simply carries more of them than she should have to_.

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Margot,_

_Greetings from freezing fucking Ferelden. You would think I would be used to it by now, having lived in the south for so long, but the Frostbacks are a special kind of frigid that I greatly underestimated. Haven makes Highever or Montsimmard seem downright balmy._

_I received your letter. No small miracle, given everything that has happened, but it managed to find its way to me unscathed. Well, I mean, I’m sure Leliana read it but she reads everything. I trust her to be discrete, and my trust has already been rewarded. To answer your first question, yes, I am well enough. Less than thrilled at finding myself labeled the herald of Andraste, but terribly amused to be associated with a heretical organization. Tiberius and Adaline would be simply aghast, would they not?_

_To answer your second question, yes, our lady ambassador is the same Josephine Montilyet you have worked with in the past and yes, she will be reaching out to you shortly. Please feel free to provide them with any support you see fit. These are good people, albeit unnervingly willing to place their fates in my hands. I am grateful now more than ever for all the lessons I learned first from Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Bryce, and then from my husband and from dear Anora. (I really should write her as well, though I do not want to add to her stress)._

_Take care, sister. The world is a mess at the moment, but we’ll see it through._

_Love,_

_Thea_

 


	4. Leliana

“[F]or grief is felt not so much for the want of what we have never known, as for the loss of that to which we have been long accustomed.”

\- Pericles

* * *

 

 

_The Maker was clearly playing at some game. It was the only explanation she could come up with for the cruel ironies that were currently unfolding in front of her. Divine Justinia…Dorothea… was dead. Leliana owed that woman more than she would ever be able to express, and her death had left a hollowness in her soul that surprised her._

_She had not been certain she’d had much of a soul left._

_Now, she was staring at the sole survivor of the disaster at the Conclave. It had taken her a moment to recognize her: it had been at least three years since she and Theadosia Mac Tir had crossed paths and the woman had been bruised and bloodied by the explosion, but she would have recognized that locket anywhere. The stubbornly romantic side of her hoped the portraits inside were no worse the wear. She wondered…_

_“Leliana?” Cassandra’s voice shook her from her memories. “You know who she is?”_

_Leliana nodded slowly. “I do.” She looked at Thea, who was only now regaining consciousness. Their eyes met, and Leliana saw the recognition dawning there._

_“Her name is Lady Theadosia Trevelyan.”_

* * *

 

It had been Leliana who had insisted that Thea be given her own cottage, and some small measure of peace away from the chaos of the Inquisition. She knew the other woman would need the space: a place to escape, and to process. Leliana knocked briefly at the door to the cottage, then waited patiently until a tired voice bid her enter. Thea was sitting at the desk, her head in her hands. She did not look up as she spoke.

“You have my sincere and unqualified thanks, Lel,” Thea sighed. “Had you not given my maiden name rather than my married name, they likely would have simply executed me right there and then.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Leliana admitted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “It has been a long time, but I was not willing to take the risk. You may tell them when you are ready.”

Thea turned to face her, a small smile on her lips. “Then you have my continued gratitude, as well as my sympathies. I am sorry about Dorothea.”

Thea was one of the very few people who knew just how much the Divine had meant to Leliana, and one of the only ones who would dare to use her given name rather than refer to her as Justinia. “I miss her, Thea,” she confessed. She had not been able to speak to anyone of her profound grief; not really. Everyone around her was mourning, but no one quite understood just how deeply Dorothea’s death had cut Leliana to the core. “She had such hopes for the Conclave, and to see those hopes burned to a cinder along with her… it has been difficult.”

Thea nodded, reaching out a hand to take Leliana’s. “I am so sorry, Lel. I wish there was something, anything, I could say, but I know there is not. If you ever need to talk, I am here.”

“Thank you, Thea,” Leliana sighed. “While I know you wish you were out there searching for your husband, I am glad you are here. Have you heard from your cousin recently?”

Thea pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “No. Not since I left Montsimmard. I sent word that I would be attending the Conclave, and again when I got to Haven. I told her I would write again once things settled a bit, but… well, you know how that turned out.”

Leliana gave a small laugh. “Indeed. Would you like help reaching her?”

“Very much so,” Thea replied quickly. “And-”

“And of course I will do everything in my power to help you find Loghain.” Leliana smiled at the perceptible wave of relief that seemed to wash over her friend. “Did he ever really adapt to living in Orlais?”

Thea rolled her eyes, but a small smile betrayed her amusement. “More or less. I think he eventually reached the point where he learned to like individuals while still disliking the country as a whole.” Her smile faded and sadness crept into her eyes as her hand went to the locket she had taken to keeping hidden beneath her blouse. “I have to find him, Leliana.”

Leliana hoped she could. They had both lost too much; it would be nice to be able to give Thea something back.

“We will, Thea,” she promised. “We will.

 

* * *

 

_Dearest Friend,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Actually, I hope this letter finds you at all. Ever since you and Nathaniel decided to go in search of a cure for the Calling you have been remarkably difficult to pin down which, for me, is saying something. I know your mission is of the utmost importance, but I admit I occasionally indulge in selfish loneliness._

_By now, you have almost undoubtedly heard word about the attack on the Conclave, and of the death of Dorothea. I am struggling with her loss, and find myself unable to truly grieve. For the first time in many years, I am lost. The Inquisition has given me a direction in which to go, and I will follow that path in the hopes it is what Dorothea would have wanted of me, but I lack the certainty I once felt._

_I do have one piece of good news: there was a single survivor amidst the devastation. Thea is alive and, though she has somehow been marked by the fade itself, she seems otherwise healthy. She has agreed to work with us to try and end the chaos, but I can tell her heart is elsewhere. I intend to help her locate her husband, and I have in fact already discovered a potential warden contact in the Hinterlands west of Redcliffe. I believe that reuniting Thea and Loghain will do a great deal to improve her mood and give her further incentive to remain with us._

_I promise to write again soon. Please give Nathaniel a hug and a kiss for me._

_Love,_

_Leliana_

 


	5. Cassandra

“It’s chaos. Be kind.”

-Michelle McNamara

 

* * *

 

 

_She had little patience for those who could not admit when they were wrong, even if (perhaps_ especially _if) it was herself. Cassandra had been wrong about the herald. She could admit that, even if she was still utterly perplexed by the younger woman. Lady Theadosia Trevelyan had given them exactly the information they needed of her; no more, no less._

_Leliana trusted her implicitly, another confusing piece of a puzzle Cassandra was struggling to complete. Leliana trusted almost no one, but the two women shared a past that Cassandra was apparently not privy to. Her counterpart had shared little of her own past before she had become the left hand of the Divine, and Cassandra had never had much incentive to press. Now, part of her wished she had. She was beginning to realize there was so much she did not know._

_At least Thea had agreed to stay. Cassandra was not certain what she would have done had Thea tried to leave, given that she was the only one who seemed to be capable of closing rifts. She was, pragmatic, graceful, and quiet, but willing enough to help. At the moment, that was all that mattered._

_The rest would work itself out in time._

* * *

 

“Do you believe in the Maker?”

Thea stepped back from the training dummy she had been expertly assaulting with a pair of dull practice daggers. She raised a single delicate eyebrow in Cassandra’s direction but was too well-mannered to reply with the same bluntness with which the question had been posed.

“That is a complicated question, Seeker,” Thea replied evenly.

“Is it, though?” Cassandra persisted. She was not certain why she needed to know so badly, but some part of her desperately wanted an answer. “You either believe, or you do not.”

Thea looked at her thoughtfully. “If you were simply asking a yes or no question then of course I would be able to give you a simple answer. However, I have found that no one ever asks that question expecting only a black and white, yes or no answer. You are not only asking if I believe in the Maker. You are asking if I believe in the Maker as he has been presented by the chantry. You are asking if my beliefs align with theirs. You are asking if I support the institution of the chantry and its stance that it professes the Maker’s will. The words you chose may be straightforward, but the inquiry behind them is anything but.”

Cassandra stared at her for a moment. Thea had not spoken so many words to her directly since they had met, and she had not expected such a prolific response. Then again, it had been a deeply personal question. Before she could respond, Thea continued with a small sigh.

“I believe in _a_ Maker, Seeker. I supported Divine Justinia because I believe she understood better than most just how very broken things are, and how desperately change was needed. I do not support the chantry, the templars, or the circles as they existed before the rebellion. I see potential in all three institutions, but it has been so deeply buried by corruption and abuse and hypocrisy that, unlike Justinia, I am not certain I see a way out from beneath it.”

Thea paused, considering her next words. “Faith has never been simple for me, Cassandra. This,” she gestured to the place on her palm where the anchor would be when it reacted with the fade, “Has not helped matters any. I do not believe that everything happens for a reason, because sometimes bad things just happen. The world is chaos, and the best thing we can do is try to be kind to one another. _That_ is where I see the Maker’s hand: in the acts of goodness and light that we do simply because we know they are right.” She looked at Cassandra, a small half smile on her lips. “I apologize. That is probably not the answer you were hoping for.”

“I… I am not certain,” Cassandra admitted. “But I appreciate your honesty.”

“Of course,” Thea nodded briefly, then turned her attention back to the training dummy. Cassandra did the same, but her mind was abuzz. She had done what she thought was right. Perhaps Thea was correct.

Perhaps that is where the Maker’s will lay.

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Delilah,_

_Thank you so much for your letter, darling. You are one of the first people I have heard from since before the attack on the Conclave, and it was immeasurably comforting to hear word from a friend. I am, in fact, still alive, though the continued likelihood of that seems to vary day by day. Sheer loneliness seems to be my greatest struggle, but I fear there is nothing to be done for that._

_I was thinking of you, recently. There has been so much talk of my somehow being the ‘herald of Andraste.’ It is an absurd title, and one I wish would fade away, however that does not seem likely to happen anytime soon. I have to assume the Maker has a marvelous sense of humor, to put me in this position. I do not even remember the last time I went to a chantry service. It might have been when you and Albert came out with Cat and Nate for Satinalia a few years back. I think the revered mother of Montsimmard nearly fainted in shock when we showed up._

_Anyways. I was thinking of you because, of all of us, your faith has always been the strongest. Nate and I were never terribly devout; nor was my husband. That is not to say we do not believe in something, just… perhaps not as the chantry would prefer we did. I think Cat lost a great deal of hers after the Highever massacre. But somehow, you never have. Even after everything you’ve endured, and all the cruelty and hatred and sheer spite you witnessed living with your father, your faith remains strong._

_How do you do it, Lilah? I find myself so utterly lost that I wish I could turn somewhere for answers, but I can find no truths in the chantry. How do I reconcile my belief in the Maker with the institution as it exists in this world?_

_I don’t think I truly expect an answer. I am not certain there is one. Perhaps it is simply enough to have someone to ask these questions of._

_Give my love to Albert and Adrian, and of course all my love to you as well. Take care of yourself, and write again soon._

_Love,_

_Thea_

 


	6. Sera

“I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life’s a bitch. You’ve got to go out and kick ass.”

-Maya Angelou

* * *

 

 

_Sera liked simple. She’d joined the Inquisition because the stupid arsehole in the sky was ruining her nice, well-paid normal, and these people, uptight as they may be, were the only ones even trying to do something about it. She wanted things to go back to the way they were or, if possible, better than they were. And, if she were being honest with herself, she wanted to help. Too many normal, innocent people were getting swept up in the great power struggles clashing around them. If the woman they were calling the herald really_ had _been touched by Andraste herself, then…_

_But Thea wasn’t simple. Maybe she shouldn’t have expected her to be. Holy people were supposed to be special, right? Sera could almost swear she had seen Thea somewhere before. She’d never been one of her marks, so even though she came from a noble family she must not have been too much of a bitch about it. Sometimes the light would hit her face just right, or she would say something that rang in the back of her mind, and Sera would almost remember her. Then it would disappear._

_Thea hated the title, and hated the fawning that came with it, so Sera supposed that was in her favor. She also seemed to have a sense of humor, albeit hidden beneath a layer of sarcasm. She just still wasn’t entirely sure who she was, and that bothered her. Sera prided herself on her ability to stay alive by staying one step ahead of everyone else._

_But how could she stay one step ahead when she didn’t even know where the path started?_

* * *

 

 

Sera sat on the edge of one of the tables, swinging her legs back and forth, watching Thea work. The pie had come out of the oven hours ago, and now the fabled herald of Andraste was carefully piping on layer after layer of delicate, almost ethereal cream she had infused with lemon and lavender. Sera wasn’t sure who the pie was meant for, but they must have been something special if Thea was putting this much effort into the dessert’s construction.

“How do you do it?” Sera asked, paring an apple with the knife she kept at her belt and popping a piece in her mouth. “How do you get along with near _everyone_ without losing your marmalade?”

Thea shrugged. “Survival instinct, and lessons learned the hard way. I wasn’t always like this, you know.”

“What, you mean you used to be even _more_ serious?”

“Not quite.” Thea’s lips curved up in a small half-smile. “You should have seen me when I was younger. I still remember leaving the local bully in tears after I’d come up with a particularly clever series of insults. And I lost count of how many potential suitors were sent away from- from home with their egos and their dignity cut to shreds.”

Despite herself, Sera was curious. “So what changed?”

Thea paused her work and turned to face Sera. “I would like to say it is simply that I grew up, but that is not the case. I remained tempestuous well into my twenties, and even now, well… you know how I am now. No, what happened was that I learned there are some battles that were simply not worth fighting. When the world is poised and ready to take you and the people you love down, you learn to pick and choose where you expend your energy.”

“But sometimes the little fights are the ones you can actually win,” Sera pointed out.

“Yes,” Thea nodded in agreement, sprinkling a dusting of sugar over the pie. “You are absolutely right. And sometimes those are the ones I decide are worth it. Here.” she waved Sera over. “I can’t help but feel like it’s missing something.”

Sera hopped down and approached the table. The moment she leaned forward slightly to examine the pie, Thea had deftly lifted it up in one hand and planted it squarely in her face. Sera stepped back a bit, stunned.

“Ah, that was what it was missing. Your face.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then both women broke out into a fit of giggles. “I was wrong about you, Thea,” Sera gasped in between fits of laughter, “You _are_ fun.”

Thea smiled as she handed Sera a towel.

“Every so often, the little fights are the best.”

 

* * *

 

 

_My heart,_

_To say that I miss you would be such a monumental understatement, but I am having difficulty finding the words to accurately describe the depth of that feeling. I hope that, wherever you are, you are alive and well and whole, and that you and I will be together again sooner rather than later._

_I find myself grateful for the ten relatively peaceful years we had together. Those memories, my memories of_ you _, have given me a source of strength to draw on in the midst of everything. They allow me to put on the faces I need to in order to survive in the strange madness I have found myself in, and to maintain my composure when I would like nothing more than to scream into the abyss. I admit I have not been sleeping well, but one of our resident mages, Solas, is an expert at easing sleep even in the most stubborn cases. He has made me a tea that, while not as good as the blend you bought for me in Rivain, is still effective._

_Do you remember that amazing bakery in Montsimmard? The one where you always bought me the lavender scones with the lemon icing. I loved those things, and I have never had their like since. If Orlais does one thing right, it is their pastries. Ever since I left I have been trying to replicate the recipe with varying degrees of success. Today I was experimenting with the flavor ratios and was not happy enough with the result to bother making the scones, but I was able to make a serviceable pie. Bit of a silver lining, really. I think I probably got more use out of the pie._

_I will end this here for now. I have a million things I still want to say to you; so many that I think I am simply overwhelmed and instead telling you about scones instead of the things I really ought to be saying. Really, perhaps nothing I can say will matter more than this: I love you, Loghain. I love you, and I miss you, and I am waiting for the day when I am with you again and my heart is whole._

_All my love,_

_Your Theadosia_

 


	7. Scout Lace Harding

“Not all who wander are lost.”

-J.R.R. Tolkien

* * *

 

 

_She always looks a little sad, doesn’t she?_

_Harding and Thea had hit it off almost immediately, much to what she suspected was their mutual surprise. For a noblewoman, Thea sure didn’t seem to mind the long hikes around the hinterlands, although Harding would bet the other woman would be grateful when they were able to secure horses for the Inquisition. She had her own mount, of course: a beautiful mare she called Aurora, but being the way she was Thea had refused to travel by horseback when the rest of her party could not._

_Thea also acknowledged Harding and her work in a way that many in the Inquisition did not. She had never felt unappreciated, exactly, maybe just… a little taken for granted. Thea always made time to talk to her, and to ask her thoughts and opinions about an area, and to make sure Harding and her people were as safe as they could be. They would stay up late at night trading stories: Harding would tell Thea about her childhood growing up on a farm, and Thea would tell her stories about the stars or about the places she had travelled. In some ways, Thea had lived the life Harding had always dreamed of, and she was thrilled that the herald and the Inquisition were now giving her the opportunity to see the world._

_It was why Harding always felt a little guilty she couldn’t do more to chase the ache that always seemed to lurk just behind her new friend’s eyes._

* * *

 

 

“Mmm.” Harding tilted her bowl to chase the last few morsels of stew. “This is great, Thea.” It was always nice when the herald was in camp. She was an excellent cook, even with what seemingly random supplies the Inquisition had managed to get to them in a given week. Thea liked to joke that she always volunteered to cook because it meant she would never end up on dish detail, but Harding knew the other woman loved it. And maybe it was a little piece of normality that reminded her of whatever home she had come from. Thea still hadn’t revealed exactly where that home was, or who she had left behind, and Harding did not press her for answers she wasn’t ready to give.

“I am glad you like it.” Thea gave her familiar half smile. “That recipe is one of my favorites for when I’m camping. I had to trade three bottles of good Antivan port and my first edition of _Hard in Hightown_ to a girl working at The Blooming Rose in Kirkwall for it, but I think the results were worth it.”

“Seriously?” Harding tilted her head in curiosity, and Thea laughed.

“Of course. I went there to drink when the crowd at The Hanged Man was a little too… grabby. The girl who gave me the recipe was originally from the Anderfels, and they know how to make the most out of every single ingredient there.”

“How did she end up in Kirkwall? Do you know?” Harding was intrigued now, especially given that Thea had never mentioned having spent time in the City of Chains. She wondered if she had known Varric before the Inquisiton.

“Short answer? A star-crossed romance with one of the wardens out of Weisshaupt,” Thea sighed. “They were both young, and when he was assigned to the Marches she followed. He died in the deep roads, and she was left in an unfamiliar city far from home and her family. She started out working as a scullery maid for the Rose, but given how beautiful she was it was perhaps inevitable that she eventually ended up working upstairs.” Thea’s smile turned slightly wistful. “She didn’t dislike the work, and there was no particular reason why she should. She said it was a void of a lot better than scrubbing pans, but I think what she really wanted to do was cook. Maybe someday…”

“And how did the two of you end up talking recipes?” Harding asked.

Thea’s expression turned introspective. “If there is one thing I have learned, it is that everyone has a story. Some are more interesting than others, but if you occasionally take the time to just _listen_ , you may find a hidden gem. Like my recipe for stew.”

Harding mulled her next question over for a moment, but decided to go ahead and press her luck. “Were you in Kirkwall when-”

“No,” Thea shook her head before Harding could finish her sentence. “I was there shortly before everything went to shit. I was… trying to track someone down, a warden, as a favor to my cousin. Turns out the Champion of Kirkwall had beat me to it, but I was still there in time to give said warden a very long, very _loud_ lecture on the merits of telling his wife when he was going on an impromptu adventure.”

The memory seemed to have triggered something painful in Thea’s mind, so Harding decided to let the subject drop. “Well, guess I’d better send someone to fetch water for the dreaded dishes,” she said cheerfully, trying to draw Thea back out from whatever melancholy had snared her.

But her friend just stared into the fire, lost to the past.

 

* * *

 

 

_Nightingale-_

_I am pleased to report that the Blades of Hessarian, the group that murdered our agents, have been dealt with. The herald managed to weed out the radicals within the group and recruit the rest, so it was the best possible outcome. She is still investigating the rumored warden presence along the coast so I expect we will be here for at least another week. I will of course keep you apprised of any discoveries we make._

_I’ve been keeping an eye on Thea, just like you asked. You were right to be worried, though of course I would never say that to her face. She does such a good job holding things together in front of everyone else, but every so often I see the mask flicker. Last night we were looking over a map of the area, trying to pinpoint where the wardens may have been traveling, and the next thing I know Thea is just staring blankly at the map with tears running down her face. She walked away abruptly, and when she came back about an hour later she seemed to be back to her normal, composed self, but she also would not look at the maps anymore that evening._

_I know that you said Thea’s past is on a strictly need to know basis at the moment, but I would recommend you talk with her when we get back. Maybe it’s the weather on the Storm Coast, maybe the stress is finally getting to her, maybe she is just tired… I don’t know. But she’s my friend, and I know she’s yours too, and I want to help her as much as I can. Any guidance you can provide would be appreciated._

_-Scout Lace Harding_

 


	8. Dorian

“Nope. I’m gonna wait til I’m on my deathbed, get in the last word, and then die immediately.”

-Stephanie Beatriz as Rosa Diaz

* * *

 

 

_He wondered what was worse: having parents you thought loved you and then having them stab you in the back, having parents that never gave you even the illusion of love, or having parents that loved you fiercely and truly and were then stolen from you in the cruelest way possible? Dorian would have put money on the third choice, but then, he was really only familiar with the first. Thea had suffered two of the three, an admission she had shared with precious few people._

_She was a constant enigma, the lovely Lady Mac Tir. He never addressed her as such in public, of course: he had been unreasonably pleased with himself for ferreting out her secret, but he had no desire to betray her trust. Thea had proven to be a more loyal friend that he had ever known, and he simply adored her. Her brilliance and biting wit were truly lost on the south, but her lack of magical talent would have meant she would be equally wasted in the north. A pity, that._

_It was why he did not complain (at least not too much) when she asked him to accompany her on her travels. He knew she needed the company; needed someone she could confide in and trust. Dorian understood this, because Maker only knows he needed it too._

_A friend._

* * *

 

Dorian made a great show of knocking the rocks and other detritus out of his boots as they sat around the campfire that evening. Cassandra rolled her eyes, but Blackwall just gave a snort of laughter and poked at the smoldering logs, coaxing the flames higher into the night. “Laugh all you like,” Dorian sniffed in mock indignation, “But a few more days of traipsing around the wilderness I may actually prefer whatever fate this Elder One has in store for me.”

“Give it a few more days, and you may actually have some calluses on those pampered feet of yours,” Blackwall advised. “Besides, it’s good for you.”

“No, a glass of wine by the fire and a meal that does not consist solely of mutton and potatoes would be good for me,” Dorian observed drily before looking about the camp. “Did anyone see where our intrepid Inquisitor got off to?” When both Cassandra and Blackwall shook their heads, Dorian pulled his boot back on and wandered away from the fire, rolling a small ball of magelight along his knuckles as he strolled.

She had not gone far, fortunately. Dorian had only been slightly exaggerating when he had complained that his feet had become two giant blisters. He found Theadosia sitting on a rock overlooking the crossroads, her eyes on the night sky. Dorian extinguished the orb of light and sat down beside her.

“I realize Blackwall’s cooking leaves something to be desired, but you didn’t have to run away,” he said lightly, testing the waters to see how depressed his friend was at the moment.

A faint smile curved at her lips. “It’s really not that bad, you know,” she retorted. “Besides, at least with his cooking the components are still recognizable as food. You should hear some of my cousin’s horror stories about the food she ate on the road during the blight. One lamb stew was so bad she swore it almost did the archdemon’s work for it.”

She was able to talk about Cataline, which was a good sign. “You’ve been thinking about them?”

Thea’s head fell briefly to her chest before she replied. “I’m _constantly_ thinking about them, Dorian. But yes, it’s been… the past few days have been difficult. We used to come here when we were children, Cat and me. I despised having to go to Redcliffe and putting up with Eamon Guerrin but it was a necessary evil. Uncle Bryce always stopped at Lake Luthias on the journey home to let us swim in the lake. Can you believe we actually used to camp out _for fun_? It was such a novelty to children who had been raised in a castle.”

“You and I clearly had very different ideas of ‘fun’ as children,” Dorian shrugged, and she laughed quietly, her gaze returning to the stars above. Even in the starlight, he could see sadness there, just behind her eyes.

“We used to lay outside on our bedrolls and look at the stars. I know all the constellations and their stories. My uncle taught them to me.” He could hear the slight quaver in her voice, and he reached out a comforting arm to place on her shoulder.

“You know, we have entirely different constellations in Tevinter,” he informed her. She smiled slightly, recognizing his attempts at distraction for what they were.

“Tell me their stories.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Darling Catkin,_

_I was overjoyed to receive your letter. I do not think I truly understood the depth of my worry and anxiety over your absence until I received it and had to take it to my private quarters to read since I cried the entire time I was reading it. That poor piece of parchment has been unfolded and read and re-folded probably a hundred times since then, but it is all I have of you at the moment, and I am clinging to it._

_I am sorry your journey to the libraries of Nevarra did not meet with any success. My friend Cassandra has some additional suggestions if you are still in the region, but I was not certain if you would have moved on yet or not. I have attached them anyways, just in case.  
_

_It has been five months now since I last heard from Loghain. I know you understand better than anyone else what his absence is doing to my heart. I did see Anora recently, however: we are currently on our way back to Haven from Redcliffe, and by some odd stroke of luck she was there at the same time we were. The rest of the trip was a bit of a disaster, but it is not something I can really talk about yet. Anyways, Anora is well and sends her love. She has not heard word from her father either._

_We camped on the shore of Lake Luthias last night. I looked up at the stars and remembered the way you would listen so patiently to me telling the stories of the constellations, even though you’d heard them a dozen times. It made me miss you all the more, but I took some comfort in the fact that, somewhere, you are looking up too._

_All my love to you and Nathaniel,_

_-Thea_

 


	9. Vivienne

“She was powerful not because she was not scared, but because she went on so strongly, despite the fear.”

-Atticus

* * *

 

 

_Whoever taught her, taught her well. Lady Theadosia Trevelyan carried herself with the poise, grace, and surety Vivienne expected of nobility, and she did so with seemingly no effort. Vivienne knew better, of course; knew just how much the other woman would have sacrificed to maintain that veneer of control. Some may have mistaken it for arrogance, and they would have been exactly that: mistaken. Theadosia was confident and had struck the hard-earned balance between understanding the importance of public perception while giving absolutely zero mind to those opinions which did not matter._

_How long had Vivienne lived with the whispered judgement of others? How hard had she had to fight to earn every single thing she now possessed? This world was not kind to those who dared challenge it, but it learned to respect those who succeeded. She would never be well loved, and the whispers would never truly stop, but perhaps it was better to be respected, and feared, than to be loved._

_Vivienne wondered, sometimes, what whispers had swirled around their herald of Andraste. What rumors and snide comments she’d had to endure that had made her as unyielding as steel._

_Vivienne wondered, but she understood._

* * *

 

 

“You handled the situation in Redcliffe admirably, my dear.” Vivienne accepted the delicate teacup Thea offered her, taking a moment to breathe in the superb blend the other woman had selected before taking a careful sip.

“Thank you, Vivienne,” Thea replied with a demure smile. She was one of the few people who the infamous Madam de Fer allowed to address her with such familiarity. “I realize my decision to make the mages allies rather than to conscript them would not have been your first choice, but I greatly appreciate your respect for my actions.”

Vivienne gave a graceful nod of acquiescence. “Of course. You were required to make a difficult decision and you made the one you thought best. Though I disagree with it, I can see your logic, and I trust that you weighed your options carefully before making your choice. I still maintain proper safeguards will need to be put in place.”

“Perhaps you would be willing to speak with the Commander?” Thea suggested. “Your input would be much more useful than my own, given that I am not a mage, nor have I ever lived in a circle.”

“I would be happy to,” Vivienne agreed. Privately, it was more than a little gratifying to know Thea respected her opinion more than that of the leader of the rebel mages, Fiona. There was history there, she was certain of it, though the herald had been disinclined to elaborate. Still, she could not resist a subtle jab at her former opponent. “Honestly, it is probably for the best. Had you conscripted the mages Fiona was like to have a fit. She has been looking just _dreadful_ recently, hasn’t she?”

Thea gave a brief snort of laughter. “Quite dreadful. That woman has a long history of meddling in things with absolutely zero foresight or careful thought about the consequences of her actions. I have heard the stories of what happened in Kinloch Hold all those years ago, with Maric. Fiona is at best reckless and at worst downright selfish. I do not agree with the circles as they existed, but nor do I agree with the mayhem she has fermented with her rebellion.”

Vivienne raised a single eyebrow. “I see. So you _do_ understand.”

The herald gave a small, bitter smile.

“Better than most.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Dearest Anora,_

_Words cannot begin to express how glad I was to see you in Redcliffe, despite the less than ideal circumstances of our reunion. I am sorry I did not write sooner; as you can imagine, things have been more than a little hectic since I effectively fell out of the fade with a mutated hand. Still, it did my heart a great deal of good to see you again, even briefly. I wish we could have had more time, but I know we both have our responsibilities._

_I also must express my thanks for your facilitating the move for the mages. You were far more gracious than I would have been, to be honest. Had I known Fiona was the one leading their little cadre I doubt I would have let them stay in Ferelden in the first place, given her history there. I fear your kindness will do you few favors amongst your people, but please know that you have my unequivocal support and I will do whatever I can to help you._

_In the meantime, we are doing the best we can. I still worry the mages will not be able to completely seal the breach, although I still think it is the more practical option. Honestly, the other alternative put forward was to bring in templars to weaken it. Weaken it, and then what? Suppression would have been a bandage. I intend to cauterize the damn thing. Beyond that, I am simply taking things as they come. What else can I do?_

_I wish he was here, Nora. I can manage by myself; of course I can, just as you always have, but damned if it would not be nice to have someone to talk to. I miss being able to talk things through with someone who understood what I was saying or reasoning even when I was still puzzling it out. And more than anything else, my heart simply aches. Sometimes it is difficult to see beyond that pain to the work I know must be done. I know you understand better than most, or perhaps even better than anyone. It makes me miss your company even more._

_I will write again soon. Take care of yourself, Nora._

_Love,_

_Thea_

 


	10. Cole

“The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.”

-Audrey Hepburn

* * *

 

 

_Her heart aches, a hurt I can’t heal. Too much loss; too much uncertainty._

_Why haven’t they written? Where have they gone? Are they still alive? Letter after letter, hurt and hope in every word scribbled onto the page. Notes found on the Storm Coast... who were they hunting? A single warden, not a pair… it could have been him, but why is he running? Why would he hide from me? Maker, keep them all safe. Bring them home to me._

_Standing on the battlements, staring at the sky because it reminds her of his eyes: clear and blue and sure._

_Bring them home to me._

_Oiling the bow he gave her, a gift from her best friend, smiling at memories of a too-serious boy and adventures with a stuffed bear. Teddy remains a treasured companion and lives in her room, reminds her, comforts her._

_Bring them home to me._

_She dips her toes into the icy cold of the river, remembers late nights spent on the shores of the lake and laughing violet eyes. She shakes with silent sobs over a cup of tea. Would she like this blend? Maker I hope she’s safe. They’ll take care of each other._

_Bring them home to me._

_Too much pain to unravel; how can I help her if I can’t untangle the hurt?_

_Whispered promises in the starlight, his lips against hers and his hand running through her hair as her head lies against the pillow, his touch warm and certain. My bed is so cold now. Bring them home to me. Bring them home. Bring them-_

* * *

 

 

Thea turned the page of the book she had been pretending to read. Her mind was elsewhere; really, her mind was a million different places, and it was not conducive to focusing on the words in front of her. It did not much matter, really. She had read this book a dozen times and could practically recite its contents by heart, which was precisely why she had chosen it today. On the off chance someone approached her and asked about it, she would be able to produce an acceptable reply.

It was unlikely she would be disturbed. She had taken up a perch on the top landing of The Herald’s Rest, cradling a drink in one hand and her book in the other. Only Cole lurked up here, and his company was not unpleasant. He would stare at her sometimes, just as he was now, and she knew he saw more of her than he had admitted to the first time she had asked. She did not mind. In fact, she pitied the poor boy. The inner machinations of her mind were a burden she would not wish on anyone, let alone a spirit of compassion.

“Why don’t you tell them?” He asked. The question would have seemed to have come out of the blue to anyone else, but Thea was all too aware of where her thoughts had been.

“Because they would not understand,” Thea replied gently. Cole seemed to bring out a softness in her personality that few people ever saw.

“You’re afraid. You’re afraid… that they’ll hurt him?” The spirit boy frowned slightly, and Thea sighed, trying to find the words to explain.

“I want to protect them,” she said slowly. “All three of them. But yes, I am afraid. The man you are referring to, he…” She shook her head. “It has been ten years, and there is still a lot of anger. A lot of hurt. Some of it is deserved, and some of it is not. I built a life with him, and we were happy. Now, that has all been taken from me.”

“But your friends could help. They could make it easier.”

Thea drained the last of her beer and set the mug aside, mulling over her response. “We are all bearing our own burdens, Cole. I have no right to put mine on anyone else, especially when it may end up making things worse. It is easier this way,” she whispered, wishing for the briefest moment that she did not believe that to be true.

Cole seemed to consider this for a moment. “I don’t know how to make it better,” he finally admitted helplessly.

“Oh, Cole,” Thea stood and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t know that you can.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Nate,_

_I am perhaps unreasonably optimistic this letter will reach you and Cat, wherever you have ended up. I worry, but you and Cat have been through worse. You will make it through this. Moreover, I know you will keep her safe, because_ you _know that if anything happens to her I will be entirely cross._

_Things have been moving at such a dizzying pace that I am not certain what I have and have not told you about. We have a name and a face for our adversary at long last, though I almost wish we did not. It is a long story, and growing more complicated by the day, which is why I sincerely wish you and Cat would find your way to Skyhold, at least for a bit. We have a lot to catch up on. Including the fact that we are now at Skyhold rather than Haven, which I may have buried under an avalanche of snow in a misguided attempt to kill aforementioned asshole who has been making my life a living void._

_Side note: I cannot recommend hypothermia._

_Despite all the pain and darkness around me, I am surviving. I miss you and Cat and Loghain so much my heart sometimes feels as though it would shatter, but I have made friends here (I know: it shocks me as well). The Tevinter mage, Dorian Pavus, has proven to be a particularly compatible companion (you would like him: all snark and wit), and The Iron Bull keeps me from getting trapped in my own head. I still miss my talks with my husband, but Lady Vivienne has proven to be a skilled and intelligent conversationalist. We disagree on several things, but are still able to debate with respect and civility and, perhaps most importantly, good wine (she has impeccable taste). Blackwall (who I strongly suspect is far more complicated than I can explain here) has been a steadfast presence when I have needed a reminder of why I am still with the Inquisition, and Sera helps me remember to have fun. Varric keeps me distracted with his wild tales, and Josephine keeps me amused by pretending to be shocked by them even as she begs him for more, and of course Leliana is there whenever the secrets become too much for me to bear on my own._

_And then there is Cole. I am not entirely certain how to explain Cole, but… well, suffice it to say I am grateful he is here. You may appreciate this anecdote: I was having a particularly rough day. Long meetings, countless letters of condolences to those we lost at Haven, and a pot of tea I had forgotten that was long cold by the time I returned to my desk. I had gone downstairs to fetch a new pot, and when I returned, there was a pile of my favorite cookies on a plate beside Teddy, who was also wearing a fetching new green ribbon about his neck. It was a simple gesture, but I know who was responsible, and I hope he knows how much it meant to me._

_I will end this here and simply pray it reaches you. Give Cat a hug and a kiss for me, and have her do the same for you._

_All my love,_

_Thea_

 


	11. Varric

“After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.”

-Philip Pullman

* * *

 

 

_Damn. Teddy Girl looks like shit._

_It was perhaps not the most charitable thought Varric could have reacted with, but at least he had the common sense to keep it to himself. He hadn’t even realized she was going to be at the Conclave, but that did not stop him from being relieved she had survived. Varric did not want to have to write that particular letter back to Ven if he could help it. Besides that, he liked Thea. Didn’t know her all that well, but the few times their paths had crossed had been good._

_Thea did not look well. Between whatever nugshit had happened in the fade and what her brief imprisonment had done to her, she was not the same woman he’d met the last time she had visited Kirkwall. There was a wall there, behind her eyes: something that kept them defiant while hiding something much more intense and, Varric would bet coin, much more heartbreaking._

_She was pretending not to recognize him. Did she really think he wouldn’t remember her? You didn’t forget a woman like Thea unless you suffered some sort of serious brain injury. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning: she was trying to hide her identity. She was trying to protect herself and, most likely, her family. Too many unknowns right now. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to minimize the variables._

_Well, Varric would play along._

* * *

 

 

“Here. Drink up.”

Varric slid the mug of coffee across the table and took a seat facing the woman on the other side, who caught the drink easily in her hand and downed half of it before speaking. “Thanks, Varric.” Thea offered him a tired smile. “I did not realize how much I needed that.”

He nodded sagely. “Didn’t figure you did. You’ve been working yourself to the bone ever since they pulled you out of the wreckage. Don’t you ever sleep?”

She gave a short bark of laughter. “Not well. Not recently, anyways. And I always reason that if I cannot sleep I may as well be working.”

Varric resisted the urge to sigh. Thea was likely to burn herself out before the end of the week if she didn’t slow down and start actually eating and sleeping. He’d noticed the Nightingale sending food to her on a regular basis, though whether or not Thea was consuming the proffered meals was up for debate. He needed to get someone on that.

“You know, you’re not going to be any use to _anyone_ if you’re dead,” he pointed out, trying to emphasize the point. Thea was still laboring under the delusion that he had no idea who she was, and Varric was still going along with the charade. Besides, she was obviously hiding something _much_ more interesting, and until he figured out what that was he would content himself with trading half-truths and omitting others. “Besides, you’re one of the only other people in this entire organization who is any fun to play cards with, but there’s no challenge to it if you’re half asleep at the table.”

Thea shook her head with a small smile. “I’m not sure there’s much of a challenge anyways, Varric. I’m terrible at Wicked Grace.”

She wasn’t, but Varric knew the false modesty was all part of the game’s strategy, so he just grinned. “Tell you what: why don’t you join us for a game tonight after dinner? We’ll test your theory.”

“Deal.” Thea nodded. She was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Varric? You were close with the Champion of Kirkwall, weren’t you?”

_Is she about to finally admit she’s related to Hawke?_ “She’s my best friend,” he confirmed. “I probably know her better than just about anyone, except maybe Anders.” Varric added the last part with more bitterness than he intended to. He still hadn’t forgive the mage for what had happened in Kirkwall; wasn’t even sure he could even if he wanted to. “They took off somewhere after we caught wind they were considering an Exalted March in Val Royeaux. I haven’t heard from her since.” A bald-faced lie, but a crucial one, and one he suspected Thea would forgive him.

“Hmm.” Thea hummed thoughtfully as she took another sip of coffee. “Then you have my added sympathies. I know how difficult it is to be dragged away from the people closest to you. I admit, I am surprised you agreed to stay after Cassandra relented and said you could go.”

Varric really did sigh then. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “Me too, to be honest. I really gotta stop getting involved with crazy shit like this.”

Thea responded with a wry laugh.

“Tell me about it.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Blackbird-_

_I’m going to route this through my own people rather than use one of the Inquisition’s ravens. Still no guarantees there, of course, but this is urgent and unfortunately, worth the risk._

_I have either the worst or best luck ever. Last time I managed to smuggle out a note the Inquisitor had survived the Conclave. Now, she has somehow survived an avalanche and a resurrected darkspawn magister. Yes, you read that correctly. Turns out Corypheus isn’t quite as dead as we’d assumed he was. Figures. That kind of ugly doesn’t die easily._

_Which is why I’m writing to you now. This shit is bad. Really bad. I know you and Anders are still more or less in hiding, but we could really use your insight right about now. Also, I know you were talking about tracking down a warden contact of yours to investigate the weirdness going on there. Since we found Corypheus locked up in a warden prison, I’m hoping maybe your friend can also give us some more information. At this point, I’ll take anything. Our resident warden doesn’t seem to know much, but then, he also claims to have been out in the wilderness for years. Maybe yours will know more._

_Besides, it sure would be good to see you again. Leaving Kirkwall was painful, but having my best friend take off was even worse. You and the Inquisitor will get on great, I have no doubt, and she’ll keep you safe from Cassandra, I’m sure. Can’t make any guarantees about Blondie, but if anyone has a shot at cleaning up his mess, it’s her. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said she was a tough one. I still feel like she’s hiding something, but I figure it’s her story to tell, so I’ve left it be._

_Take care of yourself, Hawke. Hope to see you soon._

_Love,_

_Varric_

 


	12. Dagna

“An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.”

-Oscar Wilde

 

* * *

_Oh, she doesn’t look scary at all, does she! She looks tired, but then I’d be tired too if I had a mountain dropped on me. And had to hike up another mountain. And clean out an ancient fortress. She looks a little sad too, sometimes. I wonder if she’s lonely? I should ask. All these people around her and I wonder if any of them really knows who she is. Ancestors, I know what that’s like. I bet she misses her family, and her home. Maybe I’ll make her some cookies! Everyone likes cookies. Even that serious looking qunari with the hero of Ferelden liked cookies. He said they didn’t have them back home where he came from._

_When was the last time I could really call someplace home? Was it Orzammar? Kinloch Hold? Skyhold is home now, in any case. At least it’s pretty here! Can’t beat the view from the forge. It’s hard to believe there was a time I was so afraid of the sky. I mean, now I guess I have good reason with all the demons falling out all over the place, but still. I’ve got to say, though… it’s nice being so close to the Stone again. Forges in buildings or out in the open just aren’t the same. And whatever was built here, it was BIG. Like,_ really _big. I wonder what great things we’ll create now._

_I wonder if my father would be proud._

* * *

 

 

“I have given the scouts authorization to bring you back samples from the rifts I close,” the Inquisitor informed her. “I look forward to hearing the results of your experiments but please, keep yourself _safe_ , alright? That is my first priority.”

“Oh, of course!” Dagna smiled brightly, trying to contain her excitement when, in reality, she was over the moons. She had been sure that asking permission to study the rift remains would be a lost cause, but Thea had seemed intrigued by Dagna’s proposal. In a way, it reminded her of that moment ten years when she had taken a different leap of faith and approached the warden to see if she knew of a way Dagna might be allowed to study at a circle tower. Her daring had paid off then as well. “I will write up detailed reports on all of my work. I can’t wait to get started!”

Thea gave her a small half-smile, then turned as if to leave. Dagna began gathering her tools to begin work, when she noticed the Inquisitor hadn’t actually left. “Would you mind terribly if I watched you work for a while?” She asked Dagna, her inquiry slightly hesitant as if she was not certain she should be making the request.

“Absolutely!” Dagna nodded emphatically. “I didn’t know you were even interested in smithing!”

“I have always been entranced by the process,” Thea explained, her eyes gazing out into the distance beyond the workshop as if her mind were elsewhere. “Something about the fire and the metal and the transformation… I don’t know. I used to spend hours watching the smiths back home, and when I was a child, the blacksmith at Castle Highever was constantly having to warn me away from the forge fires.”

Dagna tried to clamp down on the sudden questions bubbling in her chest. “You grew up in Highever?”

Thea looked up, startled, and Dagna could guess that piece of information was not one she had intended to give up. Then she shrugged in resignation. “Yes. I lived in Highever from the time I was seven until I was, oh… twenty-six?”

“And…” Dagna hesitated, trying not to get her hopes up. “Did you know…”

To her relief, Thea laughed. “Cat? Yes. Better than most anyone else, I think, save maybe Nathaniel.”

Dagna had to resist the urge to gape. “Really? She changed my life. She was the one who gave me a chance to leave Orzammar, to study magic. Without her, I would never have ended up here, or really anywhere else I’ve traveled over the last ten years.” She paused her rush of words when she realized Thea’s smile had turned sad.

“She is really special to you, isn’t she?” The Inquisitor asked quietly, and Dagna nodded.

“She saved me,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “She saved all of us.”

“Yes,” Thea agreed. “She really did.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Nate-_

_For the record, I absolutely love the drawings you sent me, and you may tell Catkin I said so. They add character to the letters (every one of which I have saved), and they make me smile. No small feat, these days._

_I still worry about the two of you constantly, but my life is slowly taking on some sort of normalcy, or at least as normal as it will ever be with a great bloody hole in the sky. Good sleep is still proving elusive, but I suspect that will be the case until… well, until I know more. However, Leliana and Dorian have proven to be stunningly good at nagging me into eating at least once a day, so there’s that._

_I have been thinking a lot about home. Not just Montsimmard, but Highever as well. I know it is still difficult for you to go back there; I can hardly fault you for that, but I have so many good memories mixed in with all the pain. I remember running around barefoot in the meadows and climbing trees with you and Cat and Teddy, and you having to dig out all the splinters I inevitably ended up with in my feet. I remember the Satinalia you spent with our family and the three of us got into that massive snowball fight and accidentally ended up nailing Fergus in the back of the head. I probably deserved the snow bath he gave me for that._

_And I remember the time you and Cat spent with Loghain and I at our house on Lake Celestine, and the way the fireflies lit the night sky and seemed to dance amidst the stars. I remember the way you and I would wake up earlier than everyone else and would just sit with a cup of coffee and watch the sun rising over the lake, not really needing to say anything at all. The memories are all that are keeping me sane at the moment, I think, as much as it hurts to remember what I am missing. As much as I do not envy you your task, I do envy the fact that you and Cat have each other._

_I apologize; I did not intend for this letter to become so introspective. Hopefully it finds you and my darling Catkin well. Write soon, and send me more drawings._

_All my love,_

_Thea_

 


	13. The Iron Bull

“Not to worry. I have a permit.”

-Nick Offerman as Ron Swanson

* * *

 

 

_He’d read and re-read the Ben-Hassrath dossier on Theadosia Trevelyan a dozen times. It was frustratingly incomplete. Her childhood up to the age of seven was more or less there, but that information was just shy of useless. At some point she’d been passed off by her parents to the Couslands of Highever, her aunt and uncle, which would have made her a first cousin to the hero of Ferelden. She didn’t show up again until an incident at the Fereldan court where she’d apparently gotten into a big enough argument with Teyrn Mac Tir that it had made it into the flow of gossip throughout the capital and even into the other bannorns. There were some unsubstantiated rumors she had been at the Landsmeet in 9:30 Dragon, and others that placed her at the Battle of Denerim, and then, nothing. It was as if she’d dropped off the face of the world._

_The Iron Bull did not like working with so many unknowns, especially when demons were falling from the sky and they were already up to their balls in weird shit. But the Ben-Hassrath had decided the breach was a significant enough threat that they wanted him here, so here he was. Demons or no, this was still better than Seheron. At least the Inquisition seemed to be making an effort, and now they even had proper leadership. He had wondered just how long it was going to take them to realize Thea was already running the show._

_Because fuck all if that woman wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. The dossier had not done her justice in the slightest. The Iron Bull liked her; liked her fire and her spirit and her quick wit. He was not as crazy about the fact she was obviously hiding something, but Red had given him her assurances that she had vetted Thea thoroughly and trusted her implicitly. That was good enough for him. He still didn’t like working with so many unknowns._

_But damn he liked redheads._

* * *

 

 

“So what do you think, boss?”

The newly named Inquisitor studied the diagram intently, biting her lower lip. She then nodded emphatically. “I think it could work, and I’m eager to see you try it out.”

“Yes! I knew you’d be on board!” He clapped her on the shoulder with enthusiasm, and she laughed as the gesture nearly bowled her over. “You know Cullen might throw a fit if I end up using every shield in the armory.”

Thea snorted. “If he gives you any problems, you may inform the commander that I personally gave my authorization for the exercise, and if he wants to discuss it he is welcome to do so with me.”

Bull glanced over at her as he rolled up the parchment. “You and he still butting heads at every turn?”

“I have a great deal of respect for the commander,” Thea replied carefully, gesturing to Cabot to bring over a couple drinks. “I think he was the best choice of the available options, and has proven to be an effective leader with the best interests of our people at heart. And for the most part, I find no fault with the way he runs the Inquisition armies. However, I do not appreciate being treated as though I lack an understanding of military strategy or the machinations of our forces.”

Iron Bull could understand that. He was pretty sure Thea talked to him a lot more than she talked to Cullen, and he knew she had a good mind for strategy. If she disagreed with something the commander did, she probably had a damn good reason for it. “He does seem to underestimate you. You ever talk to him about it?”

“It… that conversation would require more information on my part than I am currently willing to give,” she said, keeping her tone even, but Bull could hear a hint of hesitation in her tone. _What the void is she hiding?_ She met his eyes, a small, half smile curving at her lips.

“I will give you this much, Bull,” she spoke slowly and softly, such that he had to lean forward to hear. “I admit that I can be stubborn and argumentative, but my biggest flaw is that I hold the commander to an impossible standard, and it is one he will never be able to meet. If I can move past that, I think things may improve.”

“And you got any plans to move past it?” He asked with a grin.

Thea laughed and threw back the rest of her drink.

“Not at the moment.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Dearest Anora-_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and that matters are calming down in Ferelden now that we have removed the rebel mages from your lands. Our new home, Skyhold, is slowly becoming more habitable. The sheer number of people and resources that have begun to flow in after our losses at Haven has been truly staggering. I would beg you to come visit, but I understand you must stay in Denerim for now. Perhaps when things settle down a bit._

_I wish we could sit and talk over a cup of tea or wine like we used to when I would visit the palace. You are the only person who would understand my current frustration, I think, because you are the only other person I know who has consistently held other people up to the impossible standard set by your father. Which reminds me, how did the Antivan royal family take your most recent refusal of their proposal? They cannot possibly have expected you to take it seriously. The boy was barely seventeen! And yes, I realize I am perhaps the very last person to criticize an age gap, but when one of the parties is still practically a child I feel I am justified. I was an adult by the time I married your father._

_Still no word from him, by the way. I am assuming you have also heard nothing, since I know you would have told me if you had. I am worried; more than I can really admit to anyone else save Leliana, since most of the Inquisition, even my inner circle, has been kept in the dark regarding my family. A few people have puzzled it out, I think in large part because I simply had to confide in someone, but I trust them. I have to._

_Please let me know if Teagan continues to peck at you. I swear, I have no idea what happened to that man. Cat swears he was a very different person a decade ago. I admit, I have very little memory of him and had minimal interactions with him after we moved to Montsimmard, so I have to take her at her word. All I know is that he is currently dancing on my last nerve, and I suspect he and I would not be the best of friends even if I was not a Mac Tir._

_Well, I think that is probably enough for now. Varric says he has reached out to someone who may be able to help us with our latest predicament, and I have a very good idea of who that someone might be. I will write again soon to fill you in on all the news and gossip._

_All my love,_

_Thea_

 


	14. Blackwall

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

-G.K. Chesterton

* * *

 

 

_She knows he’s lying. She must. Void, she seems to know more about the wardens than_ he _does, and he has spent a long time building this life; this lie. He could have sworn he saw a spark of understanding in her eyes once. It had been when she had casually asked him about how wardens are supposed to kill the archdemon. He’d given her the best answer he could come up with; namely, poke it with a sword until it was dead. Lady Trevelyan had looked at him, a slight smile on her lips. He’d been sure, then, that it was over._

_But she hadn’t said a word about it since. In fact, she hadn’t asked him anything about the wardens since then. Which meant that either he was the luckiest son of a bitch alive, or it was simply a matter of time before the other foot dropped. It wasn’t an ideal way to live, but it was how he’d spent most of his life, so he could handle it._

_He didn’t like lying to her. She was a remarkable woman, and in another life… ah, well. There was not much point pursuing that line of thought. He’d watched Thea rebuff the attentions of more than one person, and she seemed utterly uninterested in the Inquisition’s most sought-after men and women._

_Her heart was elsewhere._

 

* * *

 

 

Blackwall liked the space he had claimed for himself at Skyhold; liked the earthy scents of hay and dust and horse. The stable near the keep was not nearly as bustling as the ones down in the main camp. Up here, only the Inquisitor’s personal mounts were kept, including her beloved mare, Aurora. Aurora was a beautiful creature, with a coat the color of spun gold and mane and tail like starlight. Spirited, too: Thea was the only one who could really manage her.

They were the only ones in the stable at the moment. She was carefully brushing Aurora’s coat and humming quietly to herself while he sanded one of the pieces of the rocking griffin he’d been working on in his free time. This was actually the third one he’d constructed. It was good for him to have something for his hands to do when he couldn’t sleep at night. For her part, Thea seemed more withdrawn than usual, and the tune she hummed was more melancholy than Blackwall was used to hearing.

“Tell me about him.”

She looked up sharply, and he could tell there was already a biting retort on her tongue. Instead of lashing out, however, she simply took a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, turning his attention back to the rocker he had been sanding as if her answer was of little consequence. Truthfully, in some ways it was: he was admittedly indulging his own curiosity, but he also knew it would probably be good for her to be able to talk about whatever was eating at her. Moreover, he knew that she could trust him.

“Your secrets are safe here, Thea,” he pointed out. His eyes met hers, and in them he saw a glint of understanding. Her shoulders relaxed, and she set aside the brush and hopped up onto the edge of the stall, perching there and leaning back against the post.

“He is a warden,” she finally spoke, her hands toying with the locket she usually kept hidden beneath her blouse.

“He is the one you think they were tracking on the Storm Coast?” Blackwall asked, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. He’d wondered why the Inquisitor had been so dogged in her search for any clue regarding the identity of the mysterious warden the others of the order had been pursuing.

“I think so, yes,” she nodded. “Or perhaps it is more hope than anything else. I am desperate, at this point. He and I have been together for ten years, since the fifth blight, actually. We were at the Battle of Denerim. We were married shortly thereafter.”

Blackwall studied her for a moment. “How old _are_ you, exactly?”

Thea laughed. “Older than I look. I am thirty-six.” Her smile faded as she continued. “We parted ways almost six months ago. I was to attend the Conclave and he intended to look into the strange warden behavior. We swore we would find each other afterwards, but I have not had word from him since.”

He could tell it was a deeply painful admission for her, and he held out a hand to help her down. She accepted the gesture and then, to his great surprise, she wrapped her arms around him in a great bear hug. When she stepped back, she looked up at him.

“My husband is a good man who made some stunningly bad choices in life, long ago. The wardens gave him a second chance to be the man he once was; the man I knew he could be again. I love him with all my heart and all my soul, and while I do not think he can ever truly atone for his sins, I love him all the more because he is trying.”

Blackwall stared at her for a long moment. He understood, now. And he knew she did as well. Before he returned to his project, he spoke a few final words under his breath that only she could hear.

“Thank you, Theadosia Mac Tir.”

 

* * *

 

 

_My Love,_

_We are nearing six months now since I last saw you; since you last held me in your arms and kissed me and promised you would find me again. Six agonizing months, made all the more unbearable by the knowledge that our time together is not guaranteed. I pray every day not only that you return to me safely, but that Cat and Nate find the cure you all so desperately need._

_I am settling in to my new reality. I suppose I’d have to be, at this point. Life at Skyhold is no less chaotic than at Haven, although with a bigger keep. I like to believe you would be proud of me; of the work I am doing and what the Inquisition has accomplished. That belief keeps me sane more days than I would like to admit to._

_Honestly, it is not the work or the stress or the demands on my time that wear on me the most. It is the sheer loneliness. I have friends here. I would even go so far as to say I have made good friends, but sometimes their kindness throws my loss into such sharp relief that I feel as though I cannot breathe. I feel as though I am drowning. Still, I would be more lost without them, and I have even been able to confide in a few of them. The one constant I have found is that we all have our pasts, and we all have our secrets._

_I am sorry, my heart. I should not be unburdening myself to you when I have not the slightest idea what you are having to endure at this moment. I at least have a roof over my head and Josephine to henpeck at me when I skip too many meals. It is perhaps foolish of me to assume you are still alive, but I will continue to cling to that hope regardless. Wherever you are, Loghain, please take care of yourself. I want you back in one piece._

_All my love,_

_Your Theadosia_

 


	15. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belle Trevelyan belongs to @missragdoll84. Ties into the events of the final section of Call Me a Dreamer.

“Home is not where you are from. It is where you belong. Some of us travel the whole world to find it. Others, find it in a person.”

-Beau Taplin

* * *

 

 

_Andraste’s blood, he’d missed her._

_Every moment they’d been apart had been miserable. He had jealously hoarded every letter she wrote, even as the words on the page grew more heartbreaking and he began to notice smudged ink where tears had fallen. He had hated hurting her; had been tempted more than once to throw caution and common sense to the wind and to reply to her desperate pleas for word of his safety. Part of him felt slightly guilty, too, that he had never felt this same kind of keen loss and loneliness being apart from his first wife. And maybe that easy separation during his long tenures in Denerim had been part of the problem: he had made it too easy for them to be apart. He and Celia had married too quickly, and amidst too much chaos. He’d loved her; of course he had, but Theadosia… Theadosia was different._

_There were still nights he woke up to find her quietly sobbing beside him; he suspected there would be for some time to come. Despite Theadosia being one of the strongest women he had ever known, she had been through more trauma in the last few months than anyone should ever have to endure. On those nights he would simply hold her, whispering promises and assurances and sealing them against her skin with his lips until she nestled up against his chest with a soft sigh, slipping back into sleep with the knowledge that they were together again._

_They were safe in each other._

* * *

 

 

“You know, the rest of your colleagues are unlikely to be as pleased to see me as you were.”

Theadosia shook her head with a small smile. “It will be fine, love. A few people already know; the rest will simply have to adapt. And quite honestly, if any of them are stupid enough to say or do anything I dislike, I will have no qualms about hurling them from the battlements. Bull, haven’t you been experimenting with the catapults?” She called back to the qunari mercenary, who grinned.

“Oh yeah, absolutely. But I think it’d be more fun if you just let me toss them over the side. It would be a good workout for me,” he replied with absolute nonchalance, and Loghain could not help but smile a bit. Theadosia had found good people to work with, which was no small relief to him. He had hated being apart from her, but knowing that there were others looking out for her and her best interests had made it a tiny bit easier.

Theadosia’s hand went to her locket, which had taken its place back on the outside of her clothing, and her wedding ring was once again on her hand instead of on the chain around her neck. “Loghain, I love you,” she spoke softly, words meant only for him. “And I trust my friends to treat you with the respect I would expect them to treat anyone who was important to me.”

He hoped she was right, not so much for his sake as for hers. Loghain had long since become accustomed to the jibes, insults, glares, and other unpleasantness that he had no doubt he deserved. Time helped, of course: he and Theadosia had lived a quiet life in Montsimmard, and gradually their neighbors and acquaintances had accepted him for the most part. But now he was jumping headfirst into a new group of people, and he had to wonder just how much the fear of Theadosia’s wrath would stay their tongues.

His musings were interrupted as they rounded a bend in the road, and the valley opened up to reveal the fortress of Skyhold set high on a mountain. “A far cry from Haven,” he observed, and Theadosia laughed.

“You have no idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I am at an absolute loss, Belle.” Cullen sidestepped a blow from Belle’s training sword, then blocked the next with his shield. She had come back early from Crestwood with about half the other Inquisition forces. Apparently the region had proven more problematic than expected, and the Inquisitor had become increasingly irate at having her meeting with Hawke’s warden contact delayed. It was strongly suggested (probably by Lace Harding, who was the only one who wouldn’t have her head bitten off for it) that they divide their forces, with half returning to Skyhold to begin the search for Crestwood’s erstwhile mayor and to haul back the remains of the dragon Thea had killed in the region. “I know the Inquisitor and I got off on the wrong foot, and I have taken responsibility for that, but she still seems intent on questioning me and my actions at every turn.”

“I have never seen her do that,” Belle pointed out, raising her shield just in time to deflect one of Cullen’s strikes. “So at least she does not do it in front of the troops. She respects you that much.”

“True,” Cullen conceded. “But if she does not trust me to lead her armies, why has she not simply relieved me of duty?”

Belle swept her sword against his unguarded calf, and Cullen took a knee. He’d been distracted ever since they’d received word the Inquisitor, Ravenna Hawke, and her warden contact would be returning that evening, and his form was appalling. Belle looked thoughtful as she set her sword and shield back on the rack. “Why do you think she does not trust you? How often does she countermand your orders?”

Cullen frowned slightly, his hand going to the back of his neck. “Well… not that often, now that I think about it. She always asks what feels like a hundred questions, but she usually ends up going along with my suggestions when it comes to military actions. And she does not seem to favor my advice any less than Josephine’s or Leliana’s.”

“And do her questions feel like she is just being petty or pedantic?” Belle asked, passing him a water skin and sending a shiver through his spine when their hands met. They had promised each other they would have a discussion about their feelings when she returned from Crestwood, but now that she was back Cullen was frustrated to find he had somehow lost his nerve.

“No,” he finally replied to her question, trying to focus his thoughts on his words rather than on the way the sunlight was making her eyes sparkle. “Actually, she seems to have a remarkably good mind for military strategy. I have no idea where she learned it, since she has been extremely reticent about telling me anything about herself or her past, but on the few times she has not gone with my suggestions, it turned out that her solution was the better one in the long run.”

Belle looked up at him, a kind smile on lips he desperately wanted to kiss. “And have you told _her_ any of this? Or have you just been stubborn and argumentative and intent on being right?”

Cullen sighed. “You’re saying that perhaps I should have actually tried listening to her, and respecting her knowledge, rather than trying to constantly prove my point.”

“Might help,” Belle laughed softly. “Look, I know Thea can be intimidating. Maker knows _I’m_ still a little afraid of her, and she’s my kin. But I also can tell she is hurting, badly, and I’ve seen that the people who have made an effort to show her kindness, and to really listen to what she has to say? Those are the people she is comfortable with. Have you ever been in the tavern at the same time as her and Bull and the Chargers? She’ll throw back drinks and sing loudly right along with them. She and Dorian will spend hours debating in the library. She is the only person Vivienne will consistently invite to join her for tea.” She paused, then carefully reached out and took his hand in hers. “Maybe just try talking to her, Cull. Not about Inquisition business, not about the soldiers. Just about life.”

He squeezed her hand carefully, offering her a small smile. “Alright, Belle. If you think that will help, I trust you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Leliana had been restless all day, waiting. Her scouts had sent word ahead, and she had carefully edited the reports before sharing them with Cassandra, Josephine, and Cullen. Thea would have to deal with the fallout from all of this soon enough; no point giving them a head start. Though she showed no outward signs of it, Leliana was anxious for her friends to return. She had just reached for another report to review when a sleek black raven flew into the rookery. It bore no message, but it did not need to: she would have recognized Noire anywhere. She was the raven Leliana had assigned specifically to Thea for her personal use.

Resisting the urge to hurry, Leliana carefully descended from her tower, keeping each step deliberate. She passed Cullen and Belle Trevelyan in the courtyard, and the former looked at her in question. Leliana rarely left her tower unless necessary. “The Inquisitor is back,” Leliana informed him, her tone even. “And I am going to go greet an old friend.”

The Inquisition soldiers returning from Crestwood funneled through the gate, laughing and chatting and making plans for drinks later that evening. The Iron Bull and Dorian were bickering about something, and Varric was scribbling out notes furiously on a piece of parchment even from atop his horse. Finally, a pair of horses, one black as midnight and one bright as a star, meandered into the courtyard. Alexander and Aurora seemed only slightly less joyful at their reunion than did their riders. For the first time since she had found her in the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Leliana saw Thea smiling brightly and truly. Loghain dismounted and reached a hand up to his wife, who accepted the gesture, her forehead leaning briefly against his as she whispered something to him.

Cullen and Belle approached wearing almost identical expressions of shock, though Cullen seemed to recover quickly enough. “Inquisitor,” he said brusquely, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. “I will see to it that an armed escort is arranged for our… guest… during his time at Skyhold.”

Leliana sighed, cringing inwardly. Thea took a few slow, deliberate steps towards the commander, who looked at her warily. “Commander,” she spoke, her tone low and dangerous and brimming with barely suppressed rage, “If you or anyone else so much as lays a damn _finger_ on my husband, I will remove said finger personally. I will then continue to remove appendages until I am satisfied a lesson has been learned.”

The color drained from Cullen’s face, but Loghain just laughed quietly, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Thea’s waist. “Andraste’s blood, Nightingale, what have you been teaching her?”

Leliana gave a small chuckle of her own. “Don’t look at me, Mac Tir. She came up with that all on her own.” She walked towards them, and Thea stepped aside so that Leliana could wrap her arms around Loghain in a warm embrace. “It is good to see you, my friend.”

“And you as well, Leliana,” he nodded with a small smile before his arm went back around his wife. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Of course,” Leliana replied. “I cannot take full credit, naturally, but I am sure you will meet the others in due time. Now,” she gestured the pair forward towards the keep, “I will have your things sent to Thea’s room, which I suppose will be your room now as well. I am sure the two of you would like a moment to rest before our debriefing.”

Thea gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief, and the look she gave Leliana was grateful. “Thank you, Lel,” she spoke quietly.

“For everything.”

 

* * *

 

 

It had not taken long for the story to spread. Of course it hadn’t: news of this magnitude was going to blaze through the Inquisition like wildfire. Not only was the Inquisitor married, she was married to Warden Loghain Mac Tir. Furthermore, a full (and by now wildly exaggerated) account of Cullen and the warden’s first encounter had been passed along as well, as had Thea’s reaction. Cullen had entered The Herald’s rest in time to overhear a group of scouts placing bets on how long it would be before the Inquisitor tossed the commander out on his ass. The chatter stopped as soon as they noticed him, of course, but it was enough to dampen his already cloudy mood.

He had been hoping to find Belle amongst the enthusiastic crowd, but was unable to spot her. Cullen did spy the Inquisitor and her husband at a table with Varric, Bull, Dorian, and Blackwall. For the first time since he had known her, Thea looked… peaceful. She looked truly happy there, leaning against Loghain, his arm around her shoulders and his thumb gently tracing a path along her arm. There was a spark in the storm of her eyes that had been dormant before, and she looked as though a weight had been lifted from her soul. Which, he realized, it probably had. Not wanting to intrude, he turned to leave, but Varric had already spotted him.

“Curly! Come on over, have a drink! After the day you’ve had you need it.” Varric waved him over, and he and Blackwall moved down on the bench to make room. Loghain nodded with a small smile of greeting, and to his great surprise Thea smiled as well, his earlier transgressions either forgotten or forgiven. Cullen took the proffered seat and accepted a mug of ale from Cabot as Varric spoke again.

“I was just telling Teddy Girl here that this tale is getting more unbelievable by the day. An enduring love story between the rogue warden and the beautiful herald of Andraste herself. It may even outstrip my Tale of the Champion.”

Thea laughed, tucking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. Cullen was not certain he had ever seen her wear it down before, but it suited her. “Ven would be thrilled, though I am not so sure your readers will be clamoring to read about Thedas’s most reluctant vanguard of the faith and her equally sarcastic and cynical husband. I think I’ll just let her keep the spotlight for awhile.”

The others laughed, but Cullen’s hand went to the back of his neck. “I believe I owe you an apology, Warden Mac Tir. I should not have jumped to conclusions when you arrived.”

“Just ‘Loghain’ will be fine, Commander,” Loghain replied with a shrug, “And your response was not entirely unexpected, given my… history. I can’t say I would have reacted any differently in your place, and I won’t fault you for doing your job.”

“Besides, you saved me a great deal of trouble.” Thea’s familiar half smile quirked up at her lips. “Our little showdown made it clear to the entire Inquisition that, if one of my most trusted advisors is not above my wrath, they sure as the void aren’t.” She was interrupted by a flustered looking aide approaching them.

“Lady Mac Tir, the lady ambassador is requesting your presence. There has been an… er… incident between Sera and the Duquessa de Silvain.”

“Oh Andraste’s blood,” Thea sighed, slipping away from her husband’s side with obvious reluctance. “I have to go handle this, but I will be back very shortly.” She met Loghain’s eyes, and he reached up to brush his hand against her cheek.

“I will be fine, Theadosia.”

She still did not seem entirely convinced, and Bull chuckled. “Don’t worry, Thea. Even if he couldn’t hold his own, which we all know he can, we wouldn’t let anyone even try anything.”

“Thanks, Bull,” Thea nodded, exhaling with a small smile before she strode purposefully into the cool evening air.

Loghain shook his head slightly. “I should have found her sooner. She is the strongest woman I have ever known, but I know why she worries.”

“The past six months can’t have been easy on you either,” Varric pointed out kindly. “But I think you’ll both be ok, now. Or at least, as ok as any of us will be while we’re still living in this shitshow.” He glanced in Cullen’s direction. “You alright, Curly?”

Cullen blinked, refocusing his thoughts. “She said I was one of her most trusted advisors.”

Loghain nodded. “Yes, my wife speaks quite highly of you.”

“ _Why?_ ” Cullen asked in honest confusion. “We have not had the best working relationship.”

“What makes you say that?” Loghain asked.

Bull snorted briefly, and Dorian smacked him on the bicep as he spoke. “They’ve been butting heads almost since day one.”

“In our lovely Inquisitor’s defense, the commander did not exactly make the best first impression,” Dorian added drily.

“He’s not wrong,” Cullen admitted. “I also may have… misinterpreted… her questions and concerns during our strategy meetings.”

Loghain laughed quietly. “Let me guess: she had about eight million questions and, if she decided she was right, she was not going to be dissuaded.”

“I was concerned she doubted my abilities,” Cullen explained, “Or did not trust my judgement.”

“Commander-”

“Please, just Cullen,” Cullen interrupted briefly, and Loghain gave a nod of acknowledgement.

“Cullen. My wife is an exceptionally intelligent woman and as such, is constantly wanting to understand everything. We had many pleasant nights together discussing or debating history and military strategy and, yes, there were times we were both exceedingly stubborn regarding our point of view.”

Cullen chuckled softly. “And was she always right in the end?”

“Every damn time, though I sincerely doubt you had the same recourse I did when it came to being a good loser,” Loghain agreed with a slight smirk before his expression grew serious. “Cullen, Theadosia only argues with those she thinks are worth her effort, and she only asks questions because she wants to understand; to make the best decisions possible, because she knows better than most just how much is riding on those choices. She was not trying to cast aspersions on your abilities. She was trying to make a friend. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me…” He stood and walked towards the door where Thea had reappeared, having apparently resolved or at least ameliorated Sera’s latest mischief. As Cullen watched her arch onto her toes to wrap her arms around Loghain’s neck and whisper something in his ear, he thought he might finally understand Theadosia Mac Tir.

And perhaps more importantly, he thought he understood himself a little better too. The look in their eyes as their lips met was a promise amidst the chaos of the world. It was a promise Cullen himself had been holding back from someone for far too long.

“Five sovereigns says we don’t see those two for at _least_ another three days,” Bull grinned as Thea and Loghain left the tavern.

Blackwall gave a snort of skepticism. “Nice try, but I don’t take sucker bets.”

Cullen allowed himself a small smile as he drained the last of his ale and stood up from the table. Dorian’s brow furrowed a fraction. “Calling it a night already, commander? We haven’t even begun in earnest.”

“There is someone I need to speak with,” Cullen shrugged. He offered no further explanation, but Varric chuckled quietly under his breath.

“Check the gardens, Curly. I think I saw her there before I came in.”

 

* * *

 

The evening air danced in chilly tendrils over her bare skin, its touch an indulgent contrast to the warmth of her body as she lay there breathless, her heart racing. Loghain ran a patient hand along the curves of her waist and hip, the simple touch enough to draw a low moan from her throat.

“Maker take me, I missed that, and I missed _you_ ,” she whispered.

“I missed you, Theadosia,” he murmured as he brushed his lips to her cheek, then her lips when she rolled over to face him. “I admit, I am having a hard time letting you out of my sight for more than a few moments at a time, and not simply because I desperately want to touch every part of you. Part of me is half afraid I will look again and you will be gone.”

“You and me both.” Thea nestled closer to him, breathing a sigh of contentment as his arms wrapped around her. “I have found good people here, despite everything. But they were not you.”

“I know. I almost wonder if I did not have an easier time of it simply because I did not have to spend the past six months pretending.”

Thea gave a short breath of wry laughter. “I don’t know… you _did_ have to hide out in that awful cave. Then again, I also had a mountain fall on me. And I can’t even tell you how many giant spiders I have had to fight. I think Dorian said it best when we fought that giant albino beneath Caer Bronach: ‘just once, it would be nice to walk into a cave and find _normal_ sized spiders.’”

Loghain pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips curving up in a small smile. “Well there you go. At least the spiders in the smuggler cave were perfectly normal sized and well behaved.”

“Silver lining for you, I suppose,” she giggled, the response slowly becoming more familiar. “So, Skyhold is not so bad, is it? Think you could stand to stick around for awhile?”

“I think I could manage,” he replied. “It is good to be home, Theadosia.”

She allowed herself a smile as her eyelids fluttered shut and she felt sleep tugging at her body and mind. For the first time since she had left Montsimmard, she felt as though she was finally home, because she was safe in his arms.

_Home._


End file.
